


mending

by scienceblues



Series: peapod mchanzo week 2018 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Peapod McHanzo Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scienceblues/pseuds/scienceblues
Summary: Hanzo desperately needs to sleep.(Day 3 of Peapod McHanzo Week - Laundry/chores in general)





	mending

After spending forty hours straight under the harsh lights of the medical wing, the more normally-lit halls of the Watchpoint feel unnaturally dim. It makes Hanzo feel like he’s sleepwalking as he walks back to his shared room on autopilot. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep standing up – it had been so touch and go, for a while.

Dr. Ziegler was extremely kind to let him stay as long as he had. Of course, she sent him back to his room during the surgery itself, shortly after the Orca landed with its injured cargo – Hanzo only remembers showering the grime of the mission off, then changing into the first set of clothes he saw and returning to medical as quickly as possible. 

Now that the danger has passed, Hanzo desperately wants to collapse into bed and sleep off the lingering worry. 

It takes him four tries to get the door code right, and he suspects that the only reason the door finally swings open is that Athena decided to take pity on him. Hanzo shuts it behind him, resting his forehead briefly against the cool metal with a groan.

“Genji finally wake up?”

The question startles Hanzo’s eyes open, and he turns away from the door to see McCree sitting on the loveseat. His hat is off, and the accompanying squashed hat hair combined with his socked feet resting on the low coffee table make him look unfairly soft and inviting.

Hanzo...desperately needs to sleep. Preferably with McCree as his pillow.

“He did,” he says hoarsely, then clears his throat. “He immediately made fun of me for having dark circles, never mind that he was the cause of them. We talked for a while before he needed to rest some more. Apparently the procedure went well – from my understanding, he may be discharged as soon as next week.”

“Shit, that – that’s good to hear.” Tension visibly seeps out of his shoulders, and he lets out a humorless chuckle. “Angie sent out a memo when he was stable, but nothin’ since then. You slept at all?”

Hanzo shakes his head, and McCree continues, “If you wanna change, or shower, go right ahead, but you look dead on your feet.”

Hanzo does not especially want to shower, but a faint antiseptic smell clings to his clothes, so changing is a welcome idea. He walks over to the nightstand, where he keeps sleep clothes in the bottom drawer, and mindlessly drops a clean set onto the bed next to a square of dark maroon fabric. As tired as he is, Hanzo almost disregards it until he catches a glimpse of a familiar pattern on it. “Is this–”

“Oh!” McCree comes over to his side and picks it up. “I wasn’t sure if you dumped it here because you meant to toss it or because you had more important things on your mind. I’ve seen how you handwash these enough times when I’m handwashin’ my serapes, so I did it just like you do and managed to get most of the bloodstains out. Not sure if it would’ve worked if it were another color.”

Faintly, Hanzo hears himself say, “It was ripped as well. I didn’t think it could be salvaged.”

“It was, but not too badly,” McCree explains, flipping the sleeve inside out and pointing out a new line of neat stitching. “I was never the best at the sewing tricks Gabe passed along, but even I could do this just fine. Reinforced it, too, so it shouldn’t rip that easily again.”

Hanzo reaches out to hold the other end of the gi, feeling the fine material slide through his fingers, freshly cleaned and soft as ever. McCree suddenly looks down, big, callused hands crumpling the material slightly before stilling. “Hope you don’t mind. I was gonna wait and ask what you wanted to do with it, but the blood would’ve set by then, and honestly I needed something to keep my hands busy–”

Hanzo stares down at the lightning and storm clouds chasing down the sleeve. It’s one of the few symbols unique to his dragons, the spirits bound to his soul; most of the gear he received before he left Hanamura featured the clan’s dragons. In the years after he fled, he grew to cherish the few items that did not bear the symbol of the clan that caused him so much grief.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He looks back up, and repeats it, and McCree’s eyes go soft as he kisses Hanzo’s temple.

“It ain’t nothing. Come on, you’ll feel better after a good night’s rest. I washed the bedding, too.”

Hanzo tucks the repaired gi back with the rest of his others before he gets changed for bed.

**Author's Note:**

> (This...tangentially fits the prompt.)
> 
> Unbeta'ed, so gentle concrit welcome!


End file.
